Words Left in Drafts
to someone who never knew
I wrote this to you three times.
The first was too long. The second was too careful. The third was almost right, and then I deleted the last line, which was the only line that mattered.
You never did anything wrong. You were kind in the ordinary way people are kind when they don’t know what they mean to someone. You asked how my week was. You remembered I liked the window seat.
I am not sending this. I think I only needed it to exist somewhere outside of me.
If you ever wondered why I went quiet, it wasn’t distance. It was the opposite.
